Working alone, Marchetti has solidly established himself as truly a shaman of sound. His combination of worldwide field recordings and subtle treatments has created a world that is both alien and familiar, warm and harrowing. Here working alongside Yôko Higashi, the two weave sound that goes from the industrial realm into the wilds of Africa, and then back again.
The opening piece, "Pétrole 73," is Marchetti solo, composed in 2005. Using only some rudimentary synthesizers, field recordings on the ship Stubnitz, and CB radio conversations, the sound is pure industrial isolation. The track maintains a sense of disconnected tension through its entire duration, focusing on the hollow, bassy nautical clattering of the ship, with sustained car-horn like drones that never seem to relent, but instead grow in intensity throughout. Whether this is truly happening or is just a psycho-acoustic reaction to the repetition, I can’t say for sure. The sound only stops when the “trip” comes to its end, leaving only the hollow, rumbling ambience of the boat that somehow manages to be comforting, even through the sonic chaos.
The second piece, "Okrua," is that of Ms. Higashi alone. In comparison, it is a longer piece focused more on traditional ambience at its onset. The synthesizer based ambience eventually gives way to field recordings after a healthy amount of static and digital interference. Like Marchetti, Higashi displays great skill in creating miniature dramas based on ambient recordings. Beginning with birds and the sound of motion, the journey’s calm is interrupted by music in the distance, dogs barking, and a festival like atmosphere. The music and voices of Mozambique are the warmest and most inviting part of the recording though, as things begin to take a turn for the worst with chaotic movements, ragged percussion, and disembodied radio communications before ceasing, leaving only the distant sound of music and birds.
The final piece, "Pétrole 42," is the collaborative track between the two artists, with Marchetti focusing on weaving dark and shimmering drones via synthesizer and tape, while Higashi provides vocals, the combination of which maintains the tension and isolation of the opening piece, but there is a greater since of levity here, where the tension does not feel as if it is going to end badly, just that the culmination will lead to a comfortable release. The closing sound of what is likely the creaking Stubnitz ship ends the work in an eerie sense of calm.
While I usually find Lionel Marchetti’s work dark, it usually has more organic and spiritual creepiness to it. For me, it conjures images of witch doctors, dark jungles, and movements seen from flickering fires. Here it is a darkness that comes from mechanical isolation and a sense of dread due to the actions of man, not the supernatural. It is a fascinating journey, though I think I still prefer Mr. Marchetti focusing on the supernatural more than the industrial.
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